


a reason to love harder

by astrangetypeofchemistry



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Balcony Scene But Not Really, Bitterness, Dangerous Amounts of Monologue, F/M, Partial Identity Reveal, one-sided identity reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangetypeofchemistry/pseuds/astrangetypeofchemistry
Summary: He stares at her, at the wide distance they’ve created between themselves. He’s visited her balcony twice before to get them to be comfortable again, all so their next akuma fight isn’t as awkward as the last. And yet, it will be, of course it will, because despite the masks and the kwamis and the miraculous, they are human through and through, and sometimes being human means giving time for wounds to heal over before going out and hurting yourself again for experience.





	a reason to love harder

**Author's Note:**

> written for the ML Valentine's Exchange

Chat Noir is sitting on her balcony when she opens her skylight. She smiles at him, watching the way his hair ruffles slightly with the wind and the way he tries to discreetly catch his breath. He must’ve hurried from school to see her.

“I wasn’t expecting a stray,” she greets, and he shoots her a grin, his shoulders still tense as she stands next to him. She tries to think back on her words, to see if they could’ve come across as bitter or angry or helpless. _It’s not his fault_ , she tells herself, thinking of the boy who’d stood on the Eiffel Tower with her, held her hand, and told her he knows who she is. She tries to forget the panic of him saying her name-- _her_ name, not the superhero persona she’s adopted for the past few years-- against her fingers as his lips brush against them.

“You never seem to,” he says, and his smile comes out forced as he looks at her. She knows he is asking himself if there is bitterness in his voice as well, but they will never voice it out. They will never _talk_ , now that they are in this weird place where looking at each other _hurts_. Their partnership has always been equal, except now Chat Noir holds all the cards in his hand and Marinette refuses to let him divide them.

“Can you blame me?” she says quietly now, and her eyes are busy staring at the customer flitting out of the bakery. She does not look at him, _refuses_ to, and her heart thuds painfully in her chest because she _should_ look at him, he’s her partner. He’s the person who always stands between herself and death every time they’re fighting evil.

But their last battle, the first since he’d confessed he _knew_ her, was awkward. Chat had been protective, more so than usual, and wouldn’t let her make plans that were too dangerous. She wonders if that protectiveness was more for Ladybug or Marinette, if he happens to know the girl behind the mask enough to care for her. She hurries such thoughts out of her head because that is a dangerous road, a path that Chat Noir has already walked down.

She swallows the bitterness she feels, ignores the way her eyes sting, and gathers her composure. Chat’s eyes are burning into hers, but hers are determined to watch the streets.

“I guess I can’t,” he says, and he is quiet too, as if he can sense that he is not the only one bitter at the imbalance they’ve created. From the corner of her eyes, she notes his posture, the curve of his shoulders as he attempts to hide his head and shield himself from her.

 _This isn’t them_ , she knows, but there’s nothing she can do about it. They’ve hit a rough patch, the way all partnerships do, and until they take time to heal from it they’re left in this weird place where Marinette pretends she doesn’t resent his insight and he pretends he doesn’t resent her resentment.

“I have homework,” she says desperately, and then realizes that it sounds more like an escape from him than an escape from the weird situation they’ve put each other in. “I don’t really understand it, though… You said you were good in science?”

Chat Noir stares at her, and she looks back, because she won’t be able to stop hiding unless she physically stops, and his eyes are searching hers as if to see that she _means_ it. It’s not out of pity for him, not really. It’s out of pitying herself.

She can’t say that, though, because there’s no point in answering an unspoken question if the person asking it doesn’t do it with a voice.

 _You did this to us, Chat,_ she swallows, and he smiles hesitantly because she does not have the courage to give voice to the truths tearing her apart.

“Yeah,” he says. “I _am_ good in science. Are you having trouble balancing the equations?”

Marinette misses it, almost, the way he has intimate knowledge of something she has not told him explicitly, something that isn’t even implied. Her mind is screaming, an endless whirl of _he has to know you personally what if he’s at your school and in your class too he most definitely is-_

Her hands shake as the thoughts spiral out of control, and she ignores the way her eyes stare at his hair to make some kind of comparison to _someone, anyone, who had blond hair and green eyes like he does_ -

“I am,” she says, and her voice is steady, even, the exact opposite of her train of thought. “But unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to focus with your bell jingling every five seconds.”

He stares at her, at the wide distance they’ve created between themselves. He’s visited her balcony twice before to get them to be comfortable again, all so their next akuma fight isn’t as awkward as the last. And yet, it will be, of course it will, because despite the masks and the kwamis and the miraculous, they are human through and through, and sometimes being human means giving time for wounds to heal over before going out and hurting yourself again for the experience.

“I promise not to be distracting,” he says slowly in response, his eyes calculating every twitch of her muscles as she fights to stay neutral. “I just want to help.”

There’s a tinge to his voice, something that had been in the air since she saw him but hadn’t really become noticeable until now. _Help,_ he says, like it’s something simple and easy, and not finding out the identity of your partner who you _swore to_ that you’d never try to unmask them in an effort to keep them to yourself.

“Help,” she echoes, but leaves all of the thoughts haunting her inside her head because it’s not his fault, it is _hers_ , _she should’ve been more careful than that_. “Okay.”

He is startled by this, clearly, and Marinette smiles, a small twitch in the muscles of her face that, for the first time ever, doesn’t catch his eyes. “Really?”

She flicks his bell, a quiet _ding_ that makes things feel normal, equal, _okay_ as she grins at him. “It’s not like a superhero to kick a stray out, now is it?”

And he smiles at that, hesitant and tentative and unsure, and Marinette feels her heart fill with adoration because even if things are hard now, they will get better. They have to.

She keeps hope that they do.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @queerinette or twitter @strangechemstry


End file.
